


The Way You Say My Name (or, Patty misses his boyfriend)

by blackrose9212



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Patroclus is a softie, possible smut later on? idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 20:26:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackrose9212/pseuds/blackrose9212
Summary: Achilles has been gone for like, a week. Patroclus misses him because he's a cutie. So, he hits him up and whines about it.





	The Way You Say My Name (or, Patty misses his boyfriend)

He wakes up feeling like his blood has been replaced with honey, languid and thick. There’s a cold sweat on the back of his neck and the sheets are ruffled from where his hands once gripped them. 

It’s Friday, and Achilles has been gone for a week and a half. He’s somewhere off with Odysseus and Diomedes, something about a trip to the next state over to participate in some sort of boot camp. He had offered for Patroclus to come, but he had refused. Achilles didn’t get to be himself often-the golden-haired boy who craved carnage and the giving of flesh-and Patroclus didn’t want to interfere. So, he had kissed him and said he would see him in two weeks. 

The third day was when it started. 

He would wake up hard and warm and take a cold shower to try and diffuse it all. He knows, dimly, that he just needs to get off, but something about it isn’t right. 

He remembers what it was like when he was a teenager before he had Achilles. He didn’t like to touch himself because he didn’t like himself. Whatever arousal he had was entwined with the knowledge that no one would ever want him, and so the heat he felt in his chest and gut was dampened with the cold reality of who he was. 

 But then he had met Achilles. 

He remembers hearing him laugh, hearing the sound slam into his bones. He remembers seeing his hair glint bright like burnished gold, the way his legs looked when he moved, how when he walked past he smelled like clean earth and ripened fruit. After that, his arousal was a rampant thing that simmered under his skin like a fever, and whenever he gave in to it the thought of someone like that wanting him was suddenly enough. 

It’s just that…he’s not used to having something to miss. Before this, anything he dreamt of was just that: a dream. It was a hodgepodge of whispered stories between the boys, and even then the parts and the terms were never quite for him. The way he saw Achilles was the way everyone else saw Achilles: attractive, dazzling, and talented. He wanted him, but it was empty and vague, the way a little boy wants a sports car for Christmas.

But now, he’s spoiled. He’s used to rolling over in the morning and finding Achilles already pressed against him, and smiling when he feels hands slip on top of his wrists. He’s used to looking in any direction and catching hazel eyes and knowing that they’re his and feeling the warmth spread through him at that truth.

It’s only been a week, but Patroclus thinks that it’s not about the sex at all. 

At midnight, his lips nearly chewed through, he snatches his phone off the nightstand and hits Achilles’ contact name. 

“You should be asleep,” Achilles says when he picks up, but he’s amused. “You and I both know you like being in bed by ten.”

“I…can’t,” Patroclus says. His voice sounds strained. 

In the background of Achilles’s side, he hears the rustling of the covers like the boy is moving. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Are you sick? Should I come back?” 

The worry in his voice only makes the feeling worse. “No…I’m just…tense,” he grits out. Maybe Achilles won’t make him say it, maybe he’ll just chuckle and tell him he’ll be there by tomorrow and hang up-

“Tense?” Achilles repeats. Patroclus can hear him settling back on the bed. From the last time they talked, he knows that Achilles has his own hotel room since he was seen as an important addition to the camp. He had winked over the Skype call and told Patroclus the beds were very sturdy. Patroclus hears himself whine at the memory. “Do you…miss me?” 

That’s not what he’s asking and Patroclus is grateful for it. “Yes,” he says quickly, “I miss you. I woke up and I missed your hands and your mouth and-“

“ _Fuck_.”

If he wasn’t so tightly wound, he’d snort. “I haven’t been able to do much of anything. It’s all I’ve been able to think about.” 

Achilles pauses. “You haven’t watched porn?” The question wobbles in his voice, and it’s unlike him. “You don’t need to wait for me, you know I’m not one of the people that get offended.” 

“I don’t want to.” He had tried, earlier. He had typed in blonde, watched five minutes, laughed, and exited out. “I want you.”

 


End file.
